Clash for Alcinous III
by The Baron
Summary: It's been awhile, for those of you who remember. The Final chapter is up(horray!). For those who didn't read this when it came out read anyway and enjoy. Finals are over, so I can start writing stories more often. Thanks for putting up with the waiting.
1. Chapter One

Silence. A concept long forgotten in this bleak, war-torn land had returned and bore witness to the destruction during its absence. What once were rolling plains and stretches of savannas are now fields of blood-soaked mud and upturned earth, with hundreds of unmarked graves. Of the mountains and foothills that had dotted the countryside, many were bombed to the ground, with most of the small number of survivors too small or unstable for any real use. Once again, though, the silence would be shattered. 

Rising over a small knoll, a Marine surveyed the landscape, then motioned his companions up. Seven more Marines joined him, and coming up behind them was a Goliath combat walker. The squad's lieutenant, standing at the forefront of the group, activated the binoculars in his helmet. There was nothing around for several kilometers, and motioned the squad to move forward. 

No sooner had the team set forth then a huge explosion ripped right into the middle of the unit. The lieutenant did a duck-and-roll off the hilltop and looked back. Two of his men were gone, the rest trying to find cover. The Goliath pilot scanned the area and found the attacker: a Protoss Dragoon, which had come over the next rise in front of them. He armed the twin 30mm Autocannons and fired back, retreating behind the hilltop. The bullets impacted against the Dragoon's shields, doing little damage to the actual machine. 

The lieutenant ordered his men to move, just as another energy bolt from the Dragoon slammed into the hillside. Looking off to his right, he spied an outcrop of rocks, located at the end of a gully connecting the hill to another. He commanded his men to take up positions in the pile, telling the Goliath pilot via radio to swing around behind them. Taking his place behind another rock, he hunkered down as another bolt blew away the rock next to him, and the trooper behind it. As the smoke cleared, the lieutenant looked around at the Dragoon, and saw several Protoss warriors charging him. 

The Protoss' commander, a highly decorated Templar warrior, was just as surprised to find the humans as they were finding him, except he had the element of surprise. Peeking over the mound, he had moved the Dragoon to the top just as they began descending. It had pre-charged its Phase Disruptor, and released the bolt it when it came into view. The commander watched as the humans scrambled for cover behind several rocks, losing at least two warriors. Feeling the humans were retained enough, he led his five Zealot warriors in a charge on the position. 

There was little fire coming from the human warriors, and what projectiles that were on target impacted the Protoss' shields. A Zealot went around either side of the rock pile, making a quiet advance up the hills. The rest plowed dead on for a frontal assault. The Zealot in front of the commander jumped up on top of a large rock, and was blown away by an detonation. The humans carried an underslung explosive shell launcher under their weapons, something which the young Zealot had just been educated on. He would survive, but his shields were lowered drastically. 

The Protoss commander, next in line, hoped clear over a smaller rock, landing right behind a human warrior. Activating the Psionic Blades on his arms while in mid-flight, he did a complete 360°, slicing the human in half with the grace of a swordsman. He rounded another rock, coming "face to face" with another human. Towering over the petty fool at nine feet, the commander came down on the surprised combatant with his blades, cutting the creature in half vertically. His other two Zealots came upon the rest of the enemy, and at the occurrence of hearing the humans' screams of pain, figured the battle was over. But then he was startled to hear the sound of more weapons fire. 

The Goliath pilot, coming around behind the Marine position, was horrified to see his fellow teammates hacked to pieces. Firing up the Autocannons, he let loose on the two Protoss in his sights. The Autocannon fire at such close range was too much for the Protoss, bringing down their shields in a matter of moments. The warriors were literally blown to bits, huge chucks of flesh and armor all that was left of them. Unfortunately for the pilot, the two Protoss that had gone up the sides jumped off their perches right on either side of the Goliath. Their blades had a much rougher time getting through the machine then it took to go through a human, but the two disabled the Goliath and, filled with rage at the lose of their brethren, insured the pilot a slow but painful death. 

The Templar commander, deactivating his weapons, went over what had transpired in the few moments of chaos and the report he'd have to give. Gathering up the remaining Zealots and the Dragoon, and giving last respects to the fallen warriors who fulfilled their duties to the Khala, he continued on with his patrol of the sector, ever more on the watch for enemies of the Empire. 

****************************************************** 

General Graeff sat deep inside the Command Center, starring at the hologram projection. It was the latest reports from the field, most notably a video feed on the lose of Hill 24. The images replayed over and over: the Siege Tank, firing it's massive shells into the distant background, being blown to pieces by a pair of incoming Protoss Scouts; then the Zealots charging the position, taking few casualties; and then static. 

The video was like a playback of the entire war in the Alcinous system. It all started five years ago when the 5th Terran fleet fought the Protoss in the Battle of the Belt, a ring of asteroids surrounding the system. Both sides had taken heavy losses, but the Terran fleet was annihilated, a few picket ships and some other small craft escaping. Nothing could stop the Protoss from destroying any of the planets. 

Alcinous III was the Zeda Squadron's last stand, after Alcinous IV through VII were destroyed via planetary precision bombing. In a stunning, yet suicidal move made by the surviving Wraith squadrons, the Protoss' bombardment ships were destroyed, along with most of their Carriers. All pilots were lost, but their efforts crippled the Protoss, forcing them to invade rather then rain destruction on Alcinous III. Yet on the ground, the Protoss were near impossible to stop. All major cities and industrial centers were destroyed, along with most of their civilian population. After that, people began escaping off planet in anything they could fine, but were shot down while exiting the atmosphere until there were no ships left. And all that remained of the "mighty" Zeda Squadron were a few remote outposts, and "HQ". 

Reports from the rest of the Koprulu sector have been just a depressing. It's predicted that the Protoss will make a major push for Tarsonis, the capital of the Confederacy. Several planets have been overrun by the creatures known as the Zerg, and a new rebellion against the government is seriously beginning to challenge the Terran Army. Further more, to fight all these attackers, no Squadrons can be sent to relieve Zeda. This did not help the General's situation. 

During the first wave of attacks, only the Command Center, with it's numerous inner levels deep behind Neosteel armor, survived initial aggression. Although with most of its outer shell blown away, the Command Center was still functional, if not always on the move to avoid the Protoss. There was always a lot of noise, from the grind of machinery to falling debris, and the General figured nobody would notice an extra sound. 

Pulling his prized antique Colt .44 out of its decorated box, a relic far older then when the "colonists" left Earth, he cocked the hammer back and brought it to his head, pointing the barrel inwards to his brain. It's been said that this was the least painful way to commit suicide, and the brain matter was easier to clean up before the officer next in line took command. Figuring the situation hopeless, and it's outcome inevitable, he decided to join his family and pulled the trigger. 

****************************************************** 

Executor Apollyon stared out into the night sky from the observation deck of his command ship and the last remaining Carrier, the Apostle of Khas. The arrangement of the stars were not the same as on Auir, though he had gotten use to that a long time ago. Turning his gaze downward, he examined the Protoss main base. A good deal of it had been damaged or destroyed in the first cycles of the ground war, a wholehearted but desperate move to repulse his forces. 

He had concluded long ago that the Terran's greatest strength was their determination, even in the face of total destruction. They were also crafty, resourceful, and, at this point, incredibly lucky to have survived. The Terrans would've been an honorable foe if not for their underhanded and foul nature. Including rude manners. 

But he was letting his mind wander again. Apollyon receded back into his chambers, focusing on the situation at hand. Indeed my Templar forces have the upperhand he thought, but even now we are nearing the brink of defeat. If not for the engagement in the asteroid field and the attack by the human fighters, we would not have had to invade in the first place. The Conclave won't even send reinforcements, sending troops elsewhere to "cleanse" the rest of the Terran sector of the Zerg infestation. There probably never were Zerg in this system, just a figment of the Conclave's imagination. 

Apallyon started re-reading reports of his remaining Templar warriors. Even though he was gaining ground by the day, Apollyon realized they still were taking heavy casualties. The Terrans were making them pay for every footstep into their territory, and soon Apallyon would not be able to afford it. He always ordered Scouts to take out positions before ground troops came in, but he could not afford to lose a single one. It was the ability of his invisible Observers to track escaping Terran ships that gave the humans a sense that he still had as big an air force as he used to have. At present Apollyon had eight Scouts, a plethora of Observers (although he was losing them more frequently due to Missile Towers) and his own Carrier with full compliment of short-range Interceptors. 

Apollyon knew one thing that would end the conflict: the destruction of the Terran's Command Center. It had survived the attacks made by Scouts when the invasion began, and although the rest of the Terran main base was destroyed, he lost many pilots in the raids. Now it is reported to be on the move constantly, although he still hasn't found it, even with all of his Observers searching the area. Once the Command Center was destroyed, the Terrans would lose all contact between themselves and the rest of the sector. Walking into his hologram room, he pulled up a map of recent sightings, and began analyzing the information. If he could find a pattern, then lay a trap for the mobile headquarters, they could destroy it in a swift, precise blow. Thrilled at the thought, Apollyon began searching the map vigorously, feeling the end for the Terrans was nigh. 


	2. Chapter Two

Colonel Hahn stood at the desk where his superior officer, General  
Graeff, once commanded the Terran Zeda Squadron. The janitors had actuallone a good job of getting rid of the smell, though it was no surprise  
Graeff would do this. He had been downright suicidal for the last week,  
and actually left a will and testament. The document left his antique Colistol to the Colonel, which was put back in its box, though the row ommunition arranged inside was missing a bullet.  
  
In the middle of his contemplation, the speaker box overhead crackleo life. "Attention, Attention, All hands prepare for landing." Hahrabbed hold of his desk as the Command Center began to shudder, trying tontrol its descent. Then, under too much weight with not enough verticahrust, the building simply free-fell the last couple of meters and toucheown with a thud. Again the speaker box spoke, "Ladies and Gentlemen,  
welcome to Anchorage City."  
  
Anchorage City was the last "heavily" populated city, a whoopinhree thousand people dwelt in its grimy streets. It had a more strategialue, though: a devastated, yet partial operation, Starport. Always kept minimal power so as not to attract Protoss sensors from picking up itassive energy levels, it was the last and most desperate hope of escapinhe planet.  
  
Most importantly, docking at Anchorage City meant shore leave, anveryone, including the Colonel, couldn't wait for that. Now that the citas the center for everything on the planet, it enjoyed a great economicaoon. The best of everything was located in the metropolis, most of thigh tech gadgets scavenged from the ruins of larger cities. When militarroops visited, the biggest industry growth was prostitution. There were ouple of good places by the casino......  
  
Again Hahn's train of thought was interrupted, but instead it walashing red lights and warning signals the caused the intervention. Has activating his wrist comlink when Control called in. "Sir, we'vot...." "I know, lieutenant. I'll be there." Warning signs could onlean one thing: Protoss.  
  
Hahn rushed down flights of stairs and literally jumped into Controhrough a hole in the floor (the traditional doorways were jammed). Thew second in command, Major Trotter, was waiting for him by his chair.  
"What do we have, Major?" "Sir, sensors have detected a Protoss Observeoming in from heading 288.7, about 35 klicks away."  
  
It was one of the few smart things the old man had accomplished prioo his death. Before HQ became a permanent mobile post, he ordered most ohe Comsat system, an add-on to the building and left behind when it lifteff, grafted to the hull of the Command Center. The system took almost alhe power of the Command Center to power it up, making it impossible tcan mid-flight without falling, but the concept had kept the wholperation intact. "Do we have a team out there, Major?" "Yes sir, we'viven them the information, their targeting it right now."  
  
About thirty five kilometers away, a team of two Goliaths had theiracking systems integrated with the Comsat. They picked up the Observeust at the system did, and locked on their Hellfire AA missiles. Jusefore the Comsat lost the Observer, two pairs of missiles shot out frohe ground with a shriek. To the casual onlooker, it appeared they weriming at nothing, until in the middle of the sky they struck. Thissiles smashed into the tiny Observer's shield, overloading the powerid. It exploded it a blue fire, the layer of cloak dispersing around thittle droid creating a distorted view of the surrounding space.  
  
"Congratulations, people. We've saved our asses once again,"  
commented Trotter to the Control crew. Hahn was the first out, climbinhe rope ladder to go back through the hole. Pretty soon Control wampty, the automated systems checking in. The Comsat took awhile to powep again, but the Protoss rarely sent more then one Observer, so neithehe computer or humans checked out the sector.  
  
Following in right behind the first Observer, a second one came tnvestigated the explosion detected on its sensors. Watching two Terran  
Goliaths walking off, it traced them back to Anchorage City. Earlieorays into the city produced nothing of interest, except a destroyed  
Terran ship port. It was next on the assault list. But what did catch thye of the Observer was an odd shape on the outskirts of the city.  
Inspecting the building further, it sent all of its recordings on thpparently ruined piece of junk back to the Observatory, then proceeded tit in place and watched the city.  
  
******************************************************  
  
Appolyon was almost ecstatic with joy. He had finally found the  
Terran's floating base! After a few moments of gladness, reality took holf him and he looked at where the base was. Right in the very middle of  
Terran territory, hidden behind several heavily defended outposts. Most ois advisors believed it would take at least a year to fight past thosefenses. All except.....  
  
High Templar Priest Abaddon hovered into his commander's chambers.  
As High Templar, he had achieved the fullest capabilities a mortal body caave, and in the process had weaken that very shell. Yet the power of hiind was the greatest in the Protoss force, above even that of Appolyon's.  
It was their close friendship that kept Abaddon from wrestling control ohe Protoss from Appolyon.  
  
"Will you be ready?" "I shall, when you say the word," spoke  
Abaddon, the sacred robes gently waving from the breeze coming in. "Untihen, I will conserve my energy," and with that the levitating priesxited the chambers, heading off to his personal meditating room. Appolyoeturned to his map, looking it over once again, and began recalling troopn from the field. 


	3. Chapter Three

Even in the daylight these streets look dark thought Colonel Hahn. It was around mid-morning in Anchorage City, and the day was started with an overcast sky and drizzle. He always took a walk to clear his mind, and even the rain wouldn't stop him. Hahn turned the corner and found himself in the "red-light" district of the city, passing all the whore houses and nude bars. He was deciding which way to go at an intersection when a fat man in a business suit trotted up from behind. "Colonel, so good.....to find......you..." The man was trying to catch his breath, after running a rigorous marathon of two blocks.  
  
"Mayor Clancy, what brings you out to this part of the neighborhood?" "Never mind...that, I need to speak..... with you." He regained his composure, standing his full 5' 5" height and letting his guts hang over his waist. "It has to do with the defense of the city!" God, not again thought Hahn, listening to the political pig begin to whine again. "We still don't have half the defenses covering the city as does many of the other towns! Most of the weapon systems are old fashion AA guns! What if we came under attack?!?  
  
"Sir, by the time the Protoss attack the city, we might as well throw up our hands. The reason the other towns are more heavily defended is because they are on the front line. They protect your city, Mr. Mayor, and we might as well say they are part of your defenses." "Yes, Colonel Hahn, but-""Excuse me, Mayor, I need to be going now. Good day." Turning his back on the corpulent man, Hahn continued down the street, ignoring the harlots beckoning him into their bedrooms and cabarets.  
  
Above, a flash of light and the sound of thunder encased Hahn for an instant, then vanished. He looked up, noticing the sky was not dark enough for a thunderstorm, then noticed the big blue circle rotating above. It spun around clockwise, much like a vortex, and sparks of blue energy shot out as if reaching for something. "Oh my God..."  
  
Slowly, a massive Protoss Carrier exited from one side of the portal, surrounding it were hundreds of Protoss shuttle craft. Like buzzards they swooped down upon the city, dropping off their cargo. One made its way right towards Hahn, and while it skimmed the surface, four Protoss warriors hopped out, blades at the ready. The few people on the streets quickly ran inside and locked the doors, leaving Hahn with no where to go...  
  
******************************************************  
  
Appolyon looked out from his observation deck down onto the city, marveling at what was being accomplished. He turned his head to face Abaddon, whose hands still laid on the large Khaydarin crystal resting on a pedestal. "Well done, good friend. Are you-" "I shall be fine," replied Abaddon, who had a look of great pain and weariness. Few Protoss had ever been able to construct a warp portal by themselves, much less one that could carry a Carrier. It required the use of a immense Khaydarin crystal and those who survived had the look of a cadaver, as if their very life was sucked from them. "Go now, claim your victory," he uttered withdrawing off the deck, using his feet this time.  
  
Appolyon returned his attention back to the scene of battle. His warriors were all on the ground, spreading death throughout the city. There was several spurts of projectile fire from the ground now and then, but they did no harm to even the shields of the Apostle of Khas. He turned his gaze towards the horizon, and spotted the reason for coming here: the Command Center. Bringing up a computer console from under the floor, he pushed a set of buttons, and gave the final command.  
  
******************************************************  
  
Hahn ducked into the alley and ran as fast as he could, knocking over trash cans and jumping over bits of rubble. He came out into another street, this one deserted. He looked back, but realized he was not being followed. They must have found another target he thought, letting the empty ammo clip of his pistol drop and slamming in a fresh one. Looking back into the alley, Hahn scanned up and down the street, his chest rising and falling from heavy breathing.  
  
Right there in front of him sat a hover bike, its engine still running. Holstering his pistol, Hahn jumped on and revved the motor, releasing the breaks and taking off. Making a right, he got onto the main road, which was the shortest route back to the Command Center. Unfortunately, others were using it as well.  
  
The Dragoon had just finished blasting apart one of the rooftop AA guns when it spotted Hahn speeding towards it. Charging its weapon up, it let a bolt fly right at him. A quick swerve to the left saved Hahn's ass, and another swerve saved him from a second bolt. Pulling out his pistol, Hahn took a few pot shots at the machine. The bullets simply bounced off the Dragoon's shields, but the shield distortions forced the machine pause to re-acquire the target, enough time for Hahn to speed by. The third bolt feel just short of the speeder, and soon Hahn was too far away.  
  
Looking over his shoulder till the Dragoon was out of sight, Hahn looked forward and saw the Command Center, coming over the horizon. He hoped someone was left in there to start the flight sequence, but soon the sky above him was blacked out. Looking up, all that Hahn could see was wave after wave of Interceptors, heading in the same direction he was, but with a different purpose.  
  
Major Trotter was on the Command deck, instructing the only one else with him, some new lieutenant, to begin take off. "But sir, what about the colonel?" "You have your orders, lieutenant. Now, begin take off." Trotter always hoped it wouldn't come to this. He really liked Colonel Hahn, even though he was younger by a decade. "Whatever he did to get promoted so fast, I wish I thought of it," he always thought, but the two were good pals, sharing the lonely days on board throwing back a few, telling stories of the days of old...  
  
"Sir, Sir!" Trotter snapped back to reality, responding to the lieutenant with "What!?" "Interceptors!" He looked up at the main screen, and saw it covered with the robotic drones. "Activate the defenses, NOW!" The lieutenant typed a few keystrokes, then gave the final order. Popping out of the blast holes in the Command Center were several, more powerful AA guns, and when space allowed it, a Goliath or two. The Command Center burst out with tracer fire and missiles, all aimed at the incoming fighters.  
  
A few Interceptors exploded in the initial fire, but there were too many. They swarmed the now airborne building, the fire of their pulse weapons like a laser light show. One shot struck at the #5 Repulsor Generator, causing the supported projectors to explode, and the Command Center to leaned to one side.  
  
"Hold on!" Trotter tried to grab hold of something, but everything on the deck was sliding down, and Trotter ended up banging his head on a metal edge, knocking him unconscious. The lieutenant, panic stricken and his CO down, scrambled out the hole in the ceiling. Both men missed what happened next.  
  
Another pulse shot through an opening of the building's outer shell. It punctured a thin layer of inner wall, right into an ammo storage hold. The resulting blast reached the main reactor, heating up the shield wall and causing a chain reaction. The fiery death of the Command Center took out most of the Interceptors, and a good chunk of the surrounding cityscape.  
  
From Hahn's point of view, his heart sank at the sight of the fireworks display that was home, and last hope of the resistance on Alcinous III. Lifting his head up, he looked all around for survivors. That's when he noticed the side street, and the road out of the city. Perhaps, we still have a chance he thought, revving his engine again, and took off onto the highway. Leaving behind in the dust was a sign, pointing towards his destination: FORT HOPE 


	4. Chapter Four

The soldier on guard duty was asleep again. His CO had warned him if he caught him sleeping again, there were several smelling toilets to clean. But the young man needed his rest he told himself, and leaned back in his chair, in his little guard booth, on a base in the middle of nowhere. That's why he was surprised to hear the sound of a motor in the distance.  
  
Looking up from his chair, a cloud of dust came closer and closer, until the view of a man on a hover cycle became clearer. The man pulled up next to the booth, a grimy looking man, with dirt and mud covering his entire body and the bike, like he had been riding for days.  
  
"Umm, Welcome to Fort Hope, Sir," spoke the private, uncertain what to do. "That's colonel to you, private. Where is the base's commander?" Colonel Hahn's uniform had deteriorated to a heap of rags long ago, and the soldier was suspicious of the man's story  
  
"Sorry, sir, the commander is not seeing anyone-" "Listen here, Private," the man said with angry emphasis. "Either you let me in to see the commander, or I'll skin you alive for not allowing the commanding officer of the entire Zeda Squadron to get into one of his own bases." The soldier was too stunned to respond, simply pushing the gate control button and waving Colonel Hahn through.  
  
Inside the base had literally been untouched by the war; no dried blood on the airstrip, no bombed out bunkers, not even a crack on the pavement. Passing several hangers, Hahn stopped in front of the main command building: a small, one-story building painted a very dull grey and looking no different then any of the other buildings. Its real name lost when the Protoss attacked, "Fort Hope" was dubbed so because it held a final, secret, and most desperate hope the Terrans had of coming out of the war alive.  
  
Slamming open the front door, Hahn passed right by the startled MP standing at his post, who began after the poorly dressed man to apprehended him. Hahn came upon the base's planning room and busted the door in, surprising a meeting being held for all high ranking officers, especially the man speaking to the group, Commander Webster. Webster recognized Hahn right away, saying as the pursuing MP entered after him "Colonel Hahn, what happened to-"  
  
"No time for that, Commander. I need to talk to you right now." "Yes, sir, Colonel Hahn. The rest of you are dismissed," and the two men waited as the other officers, and a still confused MP, left the room. Hahn and Webster stared at each other, Webster at the front of the room by a hologram projector, Hahn by the back making his way past the clump of chairs previously occupied.  
  
"It is good to see you alive, sir. When Anchorage City fell," he paused, allowing a moment of silence in the room. "And when we heard the Command Center was destroyed, we thought the worst." "Well, Bill, I'm still alive, and still in charge of…of… what do we have left?" "This way, sir," Webster motioned, walking over to the projector.  
  
A map of the area of Terran control popped up as blue territory, the remaining cities and defensive positions highlighted as dots. A big red blotch was in the very center of the picture, with more red surrounding the blue territory. "This was our positions right after the attack on Anchorage City. The Protoss set up a forward base in the ruins, and began striking some of the inner cities. A few of the small towns and post on the front collapsed from fear of an attack, and fell into the other cities. Protoss forces still surrounding us moved in and have cut us off from each other."  
  
As Webster relayed the information, the map reacted as if listening to him and responding. The red spot in the center first began to grow a bit, then some of the blue dots on the outer edges began disappearing, and red spilled in as if a dam had been breached. Soon the blue territory had been divided into "islands" and became smaller and smaller till the hologram stopped.  
  
"There is still strong resistance from Isenberg and Outpost 5521, but everything else is ready to cave in. This really looks like the end, sir." "Yes, yes it does, Commander. But we still have hope, right here in this base." "But sir, if it fails, we will not have anything else left!" "Do you think we have anything else left now?!" The two men backed off, letting the steam in the room cool off. "Karl, listen, all I am saying is…" "That shall be enough, Commander. As CO of this Squadron, any responsibility will be on my head, not yours. We shall start the operation tonight."  
  
There were two hours left until launch, and Hahn was starting to have doubts, standing there on the observation deck. He was a mile below the base, looking out onto a huge launch pad, and the Hudson. The Hudson was truly the last surviving ship of the Battle of the Belt, a Giant-class gunship. It was an old class, but could still throw around half the firepower of a Behemoth-class Battlecrusier, two thirds it size, and nowadays is much cheaper. The only problem with stock models was that they did not have the layer of Neosteel that covers a Battlecrusier. Some captains were able to have their ships refitted with the metal, and Captain Daemon paid good money to have the Hudson outfitted with such protection.  
  
"A beauty, ain't she colonel?" Captain Daemon joined Hahn on the deck. Daemon had a sort of rough Irish accent, although the meaning of the word was lost to his generation, as well as the origins of any descendants from the first Planet falls. All that was remembered about the Irish was their stereotype as heavy drinkers and brawlers, which Daemon helped to continue to reinforce.  
  
"Yes, captain, but I wonder if all will go to plan. I just don't want anything wrong to happen. Not to mention want it might seem to people watching." "Colonel, if I might make a suggestion: You need to stop worrying so much. You're a man of position, of power, and want you do is for the good of not only your troops, but the people down here as well. Sure, they'll say you were a coward at first, but once everything works out, they'll be praising your name. Besides, this old girl was the best in the fleet, in my opinion, and if she can't get the job done, no other could, not even them fancy pansy Battlecrusiers." "That, Mr. Daemon, I can drink to. "So can I, sir, so can I."  
  
Less then thirty seconds were left till the Hudson would blast off from the underground pad, and take off for space. The Terrans had learned not too long ago just how much air power the Protoss really had, and how they kept watch on them with Observers. The surrounding area had been repeatedly scan to make sure no Observers would be able to watch the launch. It was reported that the Protoss were throwing everything they had, including their eight Scouts, at Isenberg, the furthest distance from the base, with quite a good amount of time to reach Fort Hope. Every other factor was left to chance.  
  
There would not be enough time to make the proper requirements anyway Colonel Hahn thought over and over. It was estimated that there were about several days until the Protoss killed or left to starve any remaining Terrans. They never took prisoners, part culture, part because they did not have food for the humans. This is our only hope he reassured himself again.  
  
Loaded onto the Hudson, the entire 113 occupants of Fort Hope, plus the 75 surviving crewmembers and Colonel Hahn were crammed into a ship designed to hold 150, ready to execute the final plan. Put into military terms, the plan was for a "withdrawal into friendly territory to request assistance for the evacuation of the planet of Alcinous III." But in plan English, they were going to run like their asses were on fire back home and hope High Command would send a disposable transport ship to pick up the dead bodies. Not even the most stalwart optimism could hope for many survivors, if any. Military planners optioned to use the first explanation when they told their idea to their command officer, who liked the idea of saving his own skin.  
  
Hahn always thought of ending things in a last stand, like in the holomovies when the hero wipes the sweet and dirt off his brow, gives his men a tear-jerking speech, and leads them to die an honorable death. Hahn was never good at speeches, so he thought it just wouldn't work. But he couldn't get over his mind that he was essentially leaving these people on this forsaken rock to die. And most of them weren't military personnel, so he couldn't tell himself it was their duty to die. He told himself they would never be able to fit everyone on the craft, that they could never reach everyone in time, and a thousand other reasons why it was ok for him to abandon his people. Still he could not get that feeling of guilty out of his heart, but then it was too late. The Hudson lifted off the launch pad, and blasted out of the hole in the ground, soaring through the sky right up to the stratosphere.  
  
That was when the Observer picked up the Terran craft on sensors. It was orbiting in space, and was taking images of the Terran base when the craft buzzed out of what looked like an underground missile silo. Judging this new information was extremely important, it directly sent the live feed right to the Apostle of Khas, into the computer screen on Appolyon's desk as he sat there.  
  
"Pilot, turn the ship around, and order the Scouts to follow us. Head for grid 572.9, now!" The command carrier and the scouts were attacking a small Terran town believed to be called Isgord, or some silly name like that. He ordered to the ground forces to continue fighting, and stormed to his observation deck to watch. He was surprised to find Abaddon there, looking out over the sky.  
  
"Good friend, what are you doing up? You need your rest." "I am well and fine, Appolyon, and I sense that my help will be needed soon." "It is just a small ship, and I do believe we can take care of it." "Still, I sense my help will be needed, very soon." Appolyon joined at his friend's side, and both watched as the sky quickly became space.  
  
"Colonel, bad news, I think they spotted us," said Daemon over intercom to Hahn's personal room. "I'll be up there in a second," Hahn replied, rushing out the door and down the hallway, jumping over soldiers lying on the floor. He turned a corner just as the first blast rocked the ship.  
  
"Aw shit," spoke Daemon, as the Scouts flew by on their first pass of the ship. The Hudson just made it out of the atmosphere when they pounced, much sooner then ever thought. "All weapons, fire at will, fire at will!" The Bridge was alive with activity, as emergency lights blared and crewmen ran to and fro to their stations.  
  
The laser cannon turrets rotated to open fire on the Scouts, and a deadly light show began. The Hudson was spewing bolts of energy in every direction, tracking the buzzing Scouts like they were annoying flies. Flies that had a nasty bite. One Scout was hit four times in a row, and began backing off when a fifth shot took out his right wing, sending him spinning. The Scout he slammed into was too concentrated on the Hudson to notice his revolving comrade, and both blew up in a bluish-white fireball when they impacted.  
  
Another Scout pilot got directly behind the slow moving gunship, locking on to one of the engines. He loaded a pair of antimatter missiles and pressed the trigger, sending them off on their way. The blue explosion of the impact and the red of the engine being blown away mixed together, sending a shockwave down through the Hudson. Two more Scouts strafed the ship with their guns, destroying some of its weapons. The Hudson opened up its missile bays and began adding them to the mix, taking out another Scout with 15 consecutive shots.  
  
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"Already we have lost too much. I wish to end this here and now with no more losses," spoke Appolyon, while Abaddon looked on. Typing in the commands, Appolyon released the myriad Interceptors upon the Hudson, sat back and watched.  
  
"Jesus Christ," spoke Daemon, just as Hahn arrived. On the view screen was the pursuing Carrier, launching hundreds of Interceptors. "Colonel, if you're a praying man, I suggest you start praying for a miracle." This is it thought Hahn. All the trouble, all the loss, the suffering, all the pain, just to die out here, running like a coward. The Scouts disengaged and returned to the Carrier, passing through the cloud of drone fighters heading for the near-crippled ship.  
  
"Captain, I think there is only one course of action left." Daemon gave Hahn a quick look, and realized what he was talking about. "Sir, I'm not one for heroics, but if we keep going-" "No, Captain. I think we both know that no help will ever come. We must make a stand here. Try and at least save some dignity," spoke Hahn like a true leader, that last part under his breath. A wave of patriotic pride swept the room, each man knowing that now was the time for the Ultimate Sacrifice. "Helm, come about. Engines at full power. Keep that weapons fire hot, and let's give 'em hell, boys."  
  
"My, the Terrans plan to fight like real warriors this time," spoke Appolyon, watching the Hudson speed its way back at the Carrier. "I am not sure, Appolyon. I sense something…something not good." The Terran gunship met head-on with the swarm of Interceptors, and began passing through it. It was taking massive damage, but its fire was not so much as directed at the Interceptors, as it was at the Carrier. "No, they can't……Do you really think they'll try such a thing, Abaddon?" "Yes, they would. And I think here I can help."  
  
The great Templar priest went into meditation, blue psychic energy outlining his body. His face began to contort, as if he was dealing with tremendous amounts of pain. He began to clench his fists, and was starting to groan, louder and louder. Appolyon realized what the powerful priest was trying to do, something only a select few who were given special training could do. Never seeing such an act before, he turned his attention to the Terran ship, and watched.  
  
"Sir, she's…she's…starting to stop," spoke up the crewman manning the Helm. By this time the whole ship was heavily damaged, power lost in some sections, other sections blown away. "What? I ordered full power to the engines. We can't be slowing down." "I don't know, Captain, it's like something's pushing against us. "Pushing against us? Could they have a weapon that could do that?" Hahn was intrigued at the power of the Protoss, and began wonder what other hidden powers they had. Then he was rocked back into reality with another explosion.  
  
With a heavy heart, Daemon looked back at the Colonel. "Sorry, sir. Looks like we're-" He never finished the sentence. An Interceptor blew apart the bridge on one of its runs, and others were pounding away at the poor ship, right down to the power core. Another bolt blew apart the core, and though the blast was not as powerful as that of the former Command Center, it "took a few of them with it." It was right at that moment when a warp gate opened up.  
  
Captain Fox, commander of the Battlecrusier Intrepid, had been ordered to check up on the situation in the Alcinous system when contact with the Command Center was lost. With him were several squadrons of Wraiths and an entire division of Marines. With this much force, it was expected that they could turn around the crisis on Alcinous III into a victory. But with no contact with the Command Center, most of the officers, including Fox, thought it would be a simple body collection job. "Well, looks like we have a Protoss Carrier waiting for us," Fox said, hands behind his back as he stood in front of his command chair. "Ensign, bring us up to two thirds engine power. Launch all fighter squadrons, and charge up the weapons. Looks like we have a job here after all." 


End file.
